


Initiative

by orphan_account



Series: Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, Comeplay, Dom/sub, F/M, Felching, Humiliation, M/M, Multi, Multiple Orgasms, Paddling, Threesome - F/M/M, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-14 22:57:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Summary:</strong> Set in the aftermath of <em>Reverse-Cowgirl Diplomacy</em>, Alistair and Elissa begin exploring new pleasures with Zevran.</p><p>Refers to chapters 31, 43 and 44 of RCD. Reading RCD isn't strictly necessary. It will clarify some points, but it's not like this is heavily plotted. Just enjoy the smut.</p><p>Fills <a href="http://da-tentparty.dreamwidth.org/925.html?thread=169885#cmt169885">this prompt</a> over at the DATP.<br/>And also <a href="http://elysium-fic.dreamwidth.org/38438.html?thread=551206#cmt551206">this prompt</a> from the RCD kmeme.<br/>Thanks to scarylady for the beta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Initiative

They kissed like it was a wrestling match, grappling with one another. Alistair always did that with another man, Elissa realized, staring raptly. He'd done it with Fergus as well, and all those long months ago in Orzammar, the first time Zevran had offered himself to them both.

Alistair didn't kiss _her_ that way. Nor did Zevran. Even at their roughest and most dominating, it wasn't like... _that_. There was never that same sort of tempestuous clash of wills, that moment of deciding who would conquer and who would yield.

Or perhaps it wasn't about dominance. Maybe it was simply hunger and conflict, Alistair's desire for the man he was embracing warring with that small voice inside him—the one that could never be _entirely_ silenced—telling him that this was wrong. That he shouldn't want another man, shouldn't be in this situation, shouldn't be aroused.

Was it Zevran he grappled with when Alistair kissed him that way, or his own inner demons?

Elissa's body tightened as she watched them. As she had been before, she was struck by the beauty of the tableau. She licked her lips hungrily, her breath coming faster, her heart beating. She wanted never to take her eyes off them, and at the same time she wanted to be a part of them. She wanted them to handle her with the same intensity, the same drive for conquest, that they handled one another.

But this was between the two of them. She had no part in it, and so she must wait and watch, while they waged war with their lips and tongues.

* * *

 _Mercy_.

That was the word that had been decided upon. It hummed through every fiber of Alistair's being, tempting him. He could call it out and this would end and he could go back to what was familiar and comfortable.

But his will silenced the impulse. He _wanted_ to know where this went. Needed to know. So often, these sorts of... unusual situations just _happened_ to him, arising out of whatever was transpiring at the moment, taking him by surprise. In the past, it had left him floundering and uncertain. That was how he'd come to be pleasured by Zevran in Orzammar. It was how he'd come to lie with Elissa's brother.

He'd never sought those things, never planned for them or considered them until they were suddenly and unexpectedly upon him. And though he didn't regret them, though he had adapted to those situations and enjoyed them, the memories were marred by his internal struggle, as he attempted to make sense of it all, to reconcile himself with it.

He didn't want that anymore. He wanted to explore life's pleasures with Elissa, all of them. He wanted to do so unrestrained by conflict and uncertainty. He didn't just want to stop struggling against rapture, he wanted to embrace it freely.

The last time they'd embraced, Zevran had yielded to him, giving way gracefully to let Alistair feel he retained the initiative. Maker, he'd been skittish that night in Orzammar, torn between the ache of unfulfilled need and the fear of perversion. He now knew just how careful Zevran had been of him, unwilling to take the chance of frightening Alistair into changing his mind. He'd coaxed and cajoled Alistair's responses from him.

This time, Zevran wasn't giving way. That was the pleasure Alistair wanted to explore, this time around. The sort of surrender he'd seen leave Elissa so calm and blissful.

"There's freedom in yielding control," she explained enigmatically when Alistair had asked her about it.

His previous encounter with Zevran, he'd clung to the initiative and his own control. Having that initiative, that choice, gave him a sense of safety and security. He'd been unable to let go of his uncertainties enough to truly experience what was being offered. And so now, with his mind set on giving himself over to pleasure fully, he had agreed to let Zevran take control and guide him.

It was turning out to be more difficult than it sounded when Alistair had proposed the idea to Elissa. The part of Alistair that still had misgivings about Elissa's brand of debauchery clung tenaciously to control. He needed to stop, he thought anxiously, devouring Zevran's mouth. He'd agreed to submit, not to fight.

He needed to submit. So why couldn't he do so? Why was he trying to force Zevran to yield first?

* * *

This was not part of the arrangement. Something needed to be done, and soon. Zevran did not have the physical bulk Alistair possessed, the sheer muscle mass. If it came to a contest of strength, there was little doubt who would win. He had to take the former templar by surprise.

There. His hands slid down Alistair's arms in a seeming caress. Zevran let his body soften, let it _seem_ as though he was giving way, until his fingers were positioned just right. And then he pressed in with his thumbs on pressure points at Alistair's wrists, wrenching a pained cry from him as Alistair broke away from the kiss, grimacing.

Alistair tried to pull away, but Zevran had his wrists in an iron grip.

"Surrender," Zevran said coldly. "For each moment you resist and disobey, there will be a consequence."

Alistair fought, trying to get his arms free. With a twist, Zevran folded his wrist nearly in two and brought Alistair's arm up behind his back. "Surrender," he commanded again, grabbing Alistair by the hair and jerking his head back. "Or speak your word and we will end this."

" _I can't,_ " Alistair gasped between teeth clenched tight with pain.

"Then fight me if you must, but know that there will be a price. When I prevail—and I shall—it will be that much worse for you. I would teach you the joys of submission gently, kindly, if you will let me. But I will break you if that is what you require. One way or the other, before I leave here, I will have you."

Zevran saw indecision and conflict surfacing in Alistair's eyes. But glancing down the bare line of Alistair's torso, he could see Alistair's braies were bulging, and a damp patch was appearing.

 _So that's how it is._

Alistair closed his eyes, his jaw tightly clenched, and hissed, "Yes."

* * *

How Zevran subdued her husband, Elissa couldn't begin to guess. He moved with unbelievable speed, catching Alistair off-balance and unprepared. It happened too quickly for her to really see, but soon Zevran had Alistair on the floor, pinned beneath him and held not by dint of strength, but by virtue of strategically applied pressure on vulnerable spots. Alistair glowered and snarled, but he never spoke the agreed-upon word. He never asked for mercy.

"Bring ropes," Zevran snapped at her, and Elissa rose from where she knelt on the bed to obey. That was the other part of the agreement. She was not to dominate Alistair tonight, but merely to facilitate in whatever was required. She scurried for the silken ropes she had laid out in preparation.

Zevran bound Alistair with his back to the bedpost at the foot of the bed, as though he were a prisoner bound to the mast of a ship. He was on his knees on the mattress, his arms behind him, facing the headboard. Alistair's sweat-dampened chest heaved but once he was bound, he ceased his struggle, though his eyes still glared defiance.

"It will be a pleasure to break you," Zevran all but purred. He reached down and untied the drawstring of Alistair's braies, pushing them down to where they hung up at his knees. Alistair's cock sprang out, hard and throbbing, dripping with arousal. Elissa's own body tightened in response, and she squirmed restlessly. This was not about her, but Maker, how she longed for them both!

"You are not king here," Zevran went on to say, taunting Alistair with a playful slap on the cheek. "In this room, tonight, you control no one, least of all yourself. And your wife? She is not queen. She is not even yours. She is a slut, and she is mine, because all that was yours is now mine."

Alistair's cock jumped at Zevran's words, bobbing and twitching with each tightening of his muscles. Elissa knew a moment of concern, for the last time someone had taunted Alistair like this, had spoken of her in such a way before him, it had been Loghain and they had both been utterly powerless. But she need not have feared. Zevran knew what had happened at Fort Drakon. He also knew his target very well, somehow managing to tweak Alistair's more perverse desires without awakening all that helplessness and outrage.

"Elissa, display yourself for your husband, and show him your sweet cunny. Show him how it drips, how aroused you are by my control over him."

Her stomach clenched in a surge of humiliation, but she did as she was bidden. Lying before Alistair, she spread her legs and drew up her knees, opening herself before him. With her fingers, she parted her slick, wet folds to reveal her entrance.

"See how eagerly she obeys, hoping for a reward?" Zevran murmured, scraping his fingernails down Alistair's chest. "She doesn't even care whose cock she has tonight, so long as she gets fucked well. Had you been obedient, it would have been you. You would have taken her as I took you. But I think an object lesson is in order, instead."

* * *

Alistair struggled against his bonds as Zevran quickly, roughly, slammed three fingers into Elissa's dripping channel. Elissa cried out with pleasure, her back arching, her hips coming off the bed as she thrust up to meet those invading fingers. Even now, even having agreed to this, there was a primal part of Alistair that snarled in jealousy at the thought of another man touching _his_ wife.

Zevran withdrew those fingers, shining with her fluids, and wiped them casually, almost disdainfully on Alistair's cheek, before plunging them back in again. He thrust them into Elissa's body hard and fast, setting a rapid pace that had her wailing in pleasure in very short order, while all Alistair could do was watch, his cock aching and dripping.

The feral, possessive instinct that rose up in Alistair whenever he thought of Elissa with another man was a torment, savage and yet also delicious. It didn't even begin to make sense to him that he could _enjoy_ being jealous. But it was as though when he was jealous, all the rage at other things in his life found an outlet as well. He'd never been comfortable giving vent to his anger, it always made him feel guilty and churlish. But suffering those pangs of jealousy—and even better, giving free rein to the bestial need to claim and possess that awoke with them—had become a form of catharsis.

Watching Zevran fuck her with his skilled fingers, bringing moans and warbles to Elissa's lips as he brought her to the brink of release and held her there, never letting her topple over, was torture and ecstasy all at once. Even better, when Zevran brought his fingers back to Alistair's face and smeared her fluids across Alistair's lips.

"Suck them."

It was nothing he hadn'tt done before. In Orzammar, he'd tasted Elissa from Zevran's fingers and even from his lips. But this was different. Alistair still wasn't ready to yield. He kept his lips resolutely closed.

Zevran tsked. "Still such a disobedient boy," he said with a shake of his head. "If you will not sample your wife's sweet quim from my fingers, then you will sample it from my cock. On your hands and knees, slut! Let your husband see just how greedy you are."

Zevran positioned them so that Alistair faced them from the side, and took his position behind Elissa, kneeling between her knees.

"Look at your husband," he commanded, and Alistair glanced down as her passion-glazed eyes turned to him. Zevran seized her hair and pushed her head down, until her cheek rested upon the coverlet. Alistair saw her eyes flutter closed, an expression of eager anticipation upon her face, and his gaze traveled along her body to see that Zevran was poised at her entrance, unmoving.

* * *

Only once he knew Alistair's gaze was fixed on that point where they almost joined did Zevran begin to push forward, slowly, making certain Alistair saw every inch of his cock sink into Elissa's cunt. They moaned together, Alistair and Elissa, and it was a marvelous sound, full of need and rapture. If they were positioned any closer to where Alistair was bound, Zevran's hip would have brushed the head of Alistair's twitching cock with each stroke as he slammed into Elissa.

Impossible as it seemed, Zevran had almost forgotten how astonishingly unrestrained she was, how beautifully and eagerly she flung herself into pleasure. So tight and hot around him! It was a struggle not to come early, but instead to let Alistair enjoy the whole show.

Elissa's cries rose and fell. Zevran slowed each time he felt her nearing the precipice, denying her release. His fingers dug into her soft, round buttocks. He squeezed hard enough to bruise, handling her as though she were an object, a thing to be casually groped and mauled for his pleasure without consideration for her comfort. The pain made her tighten around him, but it was Alistair whose response he was trying to elicit.

 _See? This sweet, firm ass belongs to me, just as yours will._

Alistair made a strangled sound and Zevran's lips curled in a feral smile, knowing his message had sunk in. Zevran looked up, up into Alistair's face and watched his eyes, staring, holding Alistair's gaze captive as he fucked Elissa.

Alistair flinched and shuddered with each driving stroke, with each cry Elissa uttered. His lips parted and his pupils dilated as one of Zevran's fingers sank into her rear passage, and then another, fucking her simultaneously with fingers and cock. He could practically _feel_ the weakening of Alistair's will, as his reserve and possessive need for control began to crumble beneath the need for _feeling_ , for sensation.

But first there was the little matter of his defiance to deal with.

Closing his eyes, Zevran let pleasure take him, let Alistair watch his face as his orgasm ripped through him and he pumped his release into Elissa's cunt, filling her.

"Such a good slut, your wife," Zevran panted, shuddering with his final spasms. He saw Alistair flinch. "Fucking her is always sublime."

Beneath him, Elissa squirmed, whimpering her dismay over her lack of release. But her cunt twitched and tightened. Zevran was well aware just how she reacted to taunts and insults.

"Tell him," he instructed. "Tell your husband how much you love having your cunt filled with my seed."

She winced and shuddered, burying her face in the bedclothes as Alistair's attention once more focused on her. Zevran hauled her up by the hair. "Tell him, or you will share in his punishment!"

"I do. I love it," Elissa whispered, gasping as Zevran casually pinched her nipple. "I love the feel of it filling me, dripping out of me. I love how used and defiled it makes me feel."

"Spread yourself again. Let him see it."

Moaning, Elissa did as she was instructed. At Zevran's command, she pulled her knees up to her breasts and revealed to Alistair the pearly white fluid dripping from her loosened hole. Without bidding, one of her fingers dipped into the mess, swirled delicately in it.

Alistair made a strangled sound.

Zevran rose nimbly to his feet, standing on the bed and holding the post to which Alistair was bound for balance, bringing his softened cock to the level of Alistair's face.

"And now, as I promised. You will suck her juices—and, coincidentally, mine—from my cock. If you cooperate, she will be allowed to pleasure herself and have her release. The longer you take, the longer she may enjoy herself. If you refuse, _she_ will have no release this night."

Elissa gave a dismayed moan at the prospect, and it was all Zevran could do not to pet her consolingly. She really was being delightfully cooperative, and given that Zevran knew intimately how deeply her own defiance could run, he was certain she was doing so deliberately.

Alistair knelt there, frozen for a moment as he watched Elissa's fingers slide deeper inside her seed-filled sheath and listened to another needy moan as it rose from her lips. Then his mouth opened, and Zevran sighed as he felt Alistair's tongue gingerly touch his cock.

* * *

This, he'd never done before. He'd tasted Elissa on another man's skin, and even tasted another man's seed from Elissa's body. But he'd never sampled either flavor from another man's cock.

Neither flavor was objectionable, but still.... He felt that small voice inside him protesting, telling him this was wrong, telling him _he_ was wrong. But he glanced down again and saw Elissa's fingers circling her nub, saw her eyes roll back in pleasure as she teased herself. Saw that smile that came to her face as she began to lose herself in pleasure. Nothing that caused that smile could ever possibly be wrong. And so Alistair opened his mouth and took Zevran's malleable length into his mouth.

A quiver ran through the elf, and he muttered something soft and incomprehensible in Antivan.

It was strange, to finally give in and open himself to another man. He'd struggled with the impulsive curiosity for so long, after all. In an odd way, the fact that Zevran was flaccid was more intimidating than if he had been erect. It meant Alistair had to try harder, had to _draw_ Zevran in, rather than passively letting him thrust inside as Zevran might have done if he were hard. It meant Alistair had to use his tongue to lick the hairless creases of Zevran's groin, capturing hints of Elissa's musk there as well as the salty-bitter essence of semen.

Elissa cried out and he knew that cry. It meant she was getting close. So very, very close. He could hear her gasping and sobbing, could hear the slick sounds her fingers were making as they plunged in and out of the seed inside her and then retreated to frantically caress her nub.

Hearing her urgency, her approach to climax, made Alistair's efforts with Zevran's cock take on a new energy. He sucked more enthusiastically, licked more eagerly. He began to let go of his own resistance and give himself over to the experience. And then Zevran's hand came down and began to caress his hair, began to guide him. Suddenly, Alistair _wanted_ to please him. He wanted that caressing hand, that approving murmur, and not only for the sake of Elissa's pleasure, but because it made him feel good. It made him feel good in the same way that the peaceful, melting, transcendent smile Elissa wore in the aftermath of her pleasure made him feel good.

Without being guided, he released Zevran's cock and his tongue darted out to lick the soft, wrinkled skin of Zevran's balls. Alistair smiled to himself when he felt Zevran sway as his knees nearly buckled. A muttered curse and a soft, masculine moan followed, and Alistair felt a surge of triumph.

This was what Elissa meant. Now he understood, how she could find freedom and power in serving and surrendering. Alistair felt it against his cheek as Zevran began to get slightly firmer. Not hard, not yet, but not as soft as he was.

Curiously, he took that firming flesh into his mouth again and discovered he liked it. Inspired, he sucked hard, seeing how much more erect he could make it.

Elissa's cry of release was almost an afterthought.

* * *

"Well done," Zevran said approvingly, as behind him Elissa gasped and panted in the aftermath of her climax. He was already half-hard again, and he knew it wouldn't be long until he was fully aroused. But with the first urgent rush of passion spent, he could take his time and draw out what was to come next.

Alistair's head bobbed on Zevran's cock, until Zevran took Alistair's face in his hands and gently urged him away. "Well done," he repeated. Alistair's eyes dropped and his face reddened, self-consciousness trying to find a foothold.

That would never do.

Zevran sank to his knees and kissed Alistair again, searchingly. And this time, Alistair yielded. He let Zevran guide him, explore him. He did not seek to wrest control of that kiss away from Zevran, but instead he surrendered to it. He opened his mouth to Zevran's invading tongue, stroked it and sucked upon it.

Zevran moved away and Alistair gave a pained moan. Only then did he realize that he'd been flush against Alistair's hard, neglected cock. Zevran wanted to take that cock in his hand and milk the release from it, but that would have to wait.

There was, after all, a small matter of punishment still outstanding. If Zevran failed to follow through, it might disrupt Alistair's newfound submission.

"Move up the bed," he instructed Elissa once she had recovered her senses. He untied Alistair from the bedpost, but kept a controlling hand on his hair.

"I have promised you punishment for your disobedience, have I not?" he said, drawing Alistair forward by that grip on his short locks. Alistair had to crawl on his knees to keep the pull on his hair from tightening painfully, forward until he knelt between Elissa's legs. "You are much more compliant now, but... not broken, I think. Ah, this is no good! It wouldn't do to be accused of breaking my word, after all."

Zevran was pleased to note it was his own eyes, rather than Elissa's, that Alistair sought as he knelt there upon the bed. Zevran made a show of crossing to the table and selecting a wide leather paddle. Not narrow enough to be called a belt or a whip, it would do nicely, stinging and heating the skin without brutal welting. Yes. Perfect.

"You will sip my seed from your wife's body," Zevran informed Alistair, pitching his voice to a low, dangerous tenor as he approached. "One lick or sip for each stroke of the paddle. Your punishment ends when she is clean, inside and out, and when you concede that tonight, you belong to me."

Alistair winced and something mutinous crossed his face at that last pronouncement. Oh, no. Not nearly broken.

Not yet.

Grasping Alistair's hair in a brutal grip, Zevran kissed him hard, plunging his tongue into Alistair's mouth. Again, Alistair yielded, giving everything to that kiss and demanding nothing for himself. Breaking away, Zevran pushed Alistair's head down between Elissa's thighs and watched for the first tell-tale shiver of Elissa's body that would indicate that Alistair's tongue had touched her. When it came, the paddle fell.

Alistair jerked away from Elissa, a red patch blossoming on his backside as he grunted in pain. Zevran brought the paddle down twice in rapid succession, harder.

"There will be two strokes for every delay or hesitation," he said coldly. "Now proceed."

Shuddering, Alistair bent back to his task, and Zevran could tell from the energy of his movements, and of Elissa's response, that he was now trying to get it over with quickly. He brought the paddle down harder still, and Alistair gave a pained curse with his face buried between Elissa's thighs. Alistair's hands gripped her hips hard to hold her still while his tongue began to delve.

"You belong to me tonight," Zevran reiterated, noting the shudder that ran through Alistair at his words. _Smack!_ The paddle landed again, this time on the backs of his thighs. Alistair yelped. "This does not end until you admit it. Come! I cannot hear you drinking my seed from her sweet cunt."

Elissa writhed, and Zevran heard a distinctive slurping sound. Again, he struck with the paddle. "Yes, much better. Continue."

On it went, and on. Zevran continued to paddle without relenting as Alistair licked and sipped at Elissa's cunt with single-minded determination. Elissa began to whimper and beg as his efforts aroused her anew.

"Use your fingers," he commanded with another stroke of the paddle. "Clean her completely."

Elissa's spine arched and her hips lifted as Alistair's fingers thrust inside her, drawing out the seed Zevran had left behind and licking it off his own hand. "Again!" he snapped with another blow of the paddle. "And again!"

"Oh, Maker, _please_ Alistair!" Elissa sobbed, grinding against his face. Alistair's taut, muscled ass was a furious shade of scarlet that extended well down his thighs and he cried out now with each blow that fell.

With shuddering effort, Alistair pushed himself away from her sex. "May I—" he began, faltering.

The paddle struck. Alistair went rigid, his entire body tensing as he tried to bite back a moan.

"What is it you wish my permission for?" Zevran purred, his own cock once again hard and aching.

"May I finish her off?" he gasped, yelling with the next stroke.

"That depends. Who is she, tonight? Is she your wife, or is she my slut?"

Another blow, and an answer, emitted as a pained yelp. "You—your slut!" Alistair cried.

"Very nice. And what of you? Who do you belong to this night?"

A hesitation. Another stroke, to the back of the thighs, and another.

" _To you_!" he cried, his body bowing as he flexed in an effort to get away from the paddle. Alistair fell forward, burying his face against Elissa's soft, flat belly and sucking in ragged, sobbing breaths. "Please, Zevran! You. Tonight I belong to you."

Zevran smiled in satisfaction. He brushed his hand lightly over Alistair's inflamed backside, drawing another shudder from him, as he leaned over and licked the side of Alistair's face, where sweat tricked from his temple.

"Perfect, Alistair," he murmured, kissing his neck and muscled shoulders. "That was perfect. You may see to the slut's pleasure. Your punishment is over. But I will continue to whip you until she comes, for my own enjoyment. After all, you belong to me, yes?"

* * *

"Yes."

Alistair kissed Elissa's belly, nuzzling her as he took a moment to catch his breath and relax in his reprieve. His backside and thighs felt like they were on fire, and he was dreading whatever Zevran had in store next. Elissa trembled and shuddered beneath him, and he could feel the tension in her body slowly abating. Oh, dear Maker. That wasn't good. The longer it took him to bring her to her peak, the longer Zevran would torment him.

Still, he waited until Zevran returned, strangely reluctant to take advantage of the delay to rush Elissa through to her completion and thus shorten his own ordeal.

He gave a startled cry when he felt Zevran's hands on his heated ass, spreading it. A cool puff of breath on his skin, and then Zevran's tongue touched his entrance.

"Ohh, sweet Andraste," Alistair groaned, fear and nervousness causing tension to spread through his shoulders and back. Elissa had done this to him, occasionally. But tonight was different. It was Zevran, whose tongue was pressing inside him. Zevran, whose lean, strong hands were prying him apart. Zevran, whom Alistair knew would fuck him before the night was over.

 _Mercy._ It was there, just behind his lips, caught in his throat, but he bit it back. The tongue felt good, despite his fear.

And then it was gone, and something cool drizzled down his blazing backside. Zevran's finger was there, sliding into his ass and back out, and in again, spreading the sandalwood-scented oil. And then something larger, blunter, cooler. Not flesh, no. Not large enough to be a cock.

One of Elissa's carved phalli, then. Slender, delicate and curved, it passed into Alistair with no pain. It felt as though it had a ball at the end, for it was thinner once the tip was within him. Breathing a relieved sigh, he began to relax, letting himself adapt to the bizarre intrusion.

"Beautiful," Zevran murmured in his ear. "We will play more with our toy later. For now, just become used to it. You took your punishment so very well, but I want more. I want all of you. I want your utter surrender, Alistair. And I will have it."

Alistair lifted his head, all but begging for Zevran's kiss, and Zevran gave it. Not a kiss of domination, no. A lover's caress, full of tenderness and caring. It sucked him under like no display of force or brutality ever could, made him _yearn_ to submit. He drank at that kiss, giving himself over to it as completely as he'd ever done with Elissa. He held nothing back.

Zevran released him with another affectionate caress to Alistair's face. "Do as you have promised, and pleasure our sweet Elissa."

Blinking, he turned his dazed glance to Elissa, who was watching them with an expression of utter amazement, her eyes wide and filled with wonder. Somehow, that moment of tenderness from Zevran made his love for her surge even more powerfully, and he found himself lying upon her, his agonizingly neglected cock pressed into her belly as he kissed her with desperate need. And then he worked his way down her body, feeling that odd pressure of the curved, round tip of the phallus still inside him, shifting as he moved.

He positioned himself between her thighs, his ass in the air, and though he felt a twinge of self-consciousness, it no longer seemed to matter. This was going to happen, and he was no longer afraid.

There was a hiss, and agony streaked across his backside, below where the phallus intruded, just above his thighs. It flicked about his hip and bit deep there. Alistair yelled, arching his back, seeking to move in some way that would lessen the searing pain, and as he did so, the ball-end of the phallus within him struck _something._

He gave a strangled cry as electric pleasure flooded his body.

"Dear _Maker_ ," he moaned, writhing.

"Yesss," Zevran murmured softly. "Now pleasure her."

Slowly, the pain and the overwhelming tide of sensation abated, and Alistair located Elissa's nub with his tongue and began to lick and stroke. The essence of Zevran was almost entirely gone, leaving just _her_ , so familiar and divine. He dove in more enthusiastically, for he knew her pleasures, knew just what to do and when and how. Her hands rested lightly on his head and her voice drove him on.

"Oh, sweet Bride of the Maker, yes, Alistair, yes!"

He screamed into her flesh with the belt lashed across his ass again, igniting a trail of molten pain. Again, he writhed and again the toy within him touched off a cascade of pleasure that sizzled out to all his extremities. The pressure in his balls was unbearable. Surely, _surely_ that thing inside him would touch off his own climax. But no. Iinstead he hovered there at the brink, feeling shocks and surges that came closer to orgasm than he had ever known possible without actually toppling over the edge.

Frantically, he worked Elissa with his lips and tongue, seeking her release with a new, desperate urgency. It was too much, too much! Too much pain, too much pleasure. He couldn't endure it. The next one would be the end of him, he knew it.

Elissa's hands dug in at his shoulders, her hips shifting and thrusting against Alistair's restraining hands. He sucked at her nub, striving to bring her back to that edge.

The belt hissed over his skin again and his rhythm was lost. Lost in another hoarse yell as pain made him tense and writhe. Inevitably, pleasure followed, another spine-arcing jolt of sensation that caused his cock to swell even harder. He was going to explode, incinerated from the inside out by pleasure as it lanced through him.

He had no thought of resistance, no thought of defiance. He would do anything, _anything_ Zevran demanded if only it meant an end to this agonizing pleasure.

"Finish her," Zevran commanded, scraping his nails over Alistair's welted backside.

Desperately, Alistair plunged his fingers into Elissa, curling and thrusting, while his tongue stroked her. As though she were far, far away he heard her cries reach their peak. He felt her shudder and convulse, felt the ripples inside her sheath.

The belt cracked, savagely hard, and Alistair howled. He toppled over onto his side, rocking helplessly, seeking relief. Zevran's hand grasped the long handle of the carved phallus and he moved it deliberately, probing and stroking along that place inside Alistair.

" _Maker, please!_ " he begged, sobbing with the need for release, more desperate for it than for a cessation of the pain of the belt.

"Elissa," he heard Zevran's voice say softly, and he was distantly aware of Elissa moving. Her hand stroked him, her lips surrounded him him, pulled at him, and then he thrust against her throat and exploded there. Sight, sound, awareness were all lost in a tumult of light behind his eyelids and the roaring rush of his own blood within his ears.

Alistair became aware of himself again as he lay trembling and shuddering in Elissa's arms, his head cradled to her breast as she stroked him soothingly. She whispered soft, loving words to him and there was a dampness beneath his face that took Alistair by surprise. He felt as relaxed and trusting as a babe, unable to muster fear or concern for anything. He became aware of Zevran behind him, touching him, patiently but with intent. Somewhere along the line while he was lost to awareness, the welts on his buttocks had stopped burning so unbearably, leaving an almost pleasant warmth in their wake. The phallus had been withdrawn also and now Alistair felt strangely empty.

Elissa's eyes sought his, tender and earnest. "Are you all right, my love?" she asked, and there was no attempt at teasing or seduction in her demeanor, nor was there any hint of yielding or submission. Indeed, there was a protective wariness about the way she asked the question that astonished him. Alistair realized what she was truly asking.

Did he want her to speak his word for him and send Zevran away, or did he want to proceed?

With effort, Alistair rolled over onto his back, wincing as his welts brushed the coverlets, and looked at Zevran. Zevran returned his gaze calmly, patiently, watching and waiting. If Alistair chose to end things now, no-one would think any the less of him.

But on the heels of that relaxed and pliant state came a sense of euphoria. Maker! Now he understood what Elissa meant when she spoke of feeling _free._ So blissfully light and liberated, as though no worries or fears could touch him. He wanted _more._

"Alistair?"

His eyes returned to Elissa, who was still waiting for his answer.

"Yes," he said softly. "I'm all right."

* * *

As she had done over a year ago in Orzammar, Elissa moved aside and tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Her role in this scenario was over and what remained would be between Alistair and Zevran alone.

When they kissed, it was entirely different than it had been when they first began. There was a sweet, melting tenderness to it, Alistair falling into submission as though hypnotized by that kiss. She saw it work its way through his body, leaving him pliant beneath Zevran's exploring, arousing hands.

Alistair did not protest when Zevran guided him back onto his knees. Instead, he rested his head upon the mattress and waited, patient and exposed, while Zevran retrieved the oil. Elissa had an impulse to intrude, to offer to prepare Alistair for Zevran, to interject herself into this intimacy that had sprung up between them as much to her surprise as to their own. But their attention was not upon her and this was not for her. This was one pleasure Alistair would need to explore without her guiding him.

Still, her body tightened in empathy with Alistair's as Zevran's fingers worked inside him, sliding and twisting, coaxing him open. It was beautiful to see Alistair’s trembling, waiting stillness, to see the effort with which he made himself relax and accept those fingers into his body. Two, then three. Zevran wasn't taking any chances of causing Alistair discomfort. Perhaps someday Alistair would wish for it, would wish to be taken with his body tighter and less ready. But for now, it was pleasure alone that Zevran wished to introduce him to.

Zevran paused to kiss Alistair's back, to soothe his oiled hands over the rippling, quivering muscles there. "Do you want me inside you, my friend?" Zevran asked a final time, and after only a second's pause, Alistair nodded, burying his head in his arms upon the bed.

"Yes."

With an uncharacteristically serious expression, Zevran poured oil into his palm and slicked it over his cock. Elissa was startled to realize she was holding her breath along with Alistair until Zevran murmured, "Exhale. Slowly."

As they did so in unison, Zevran pushed carefully into Alistair.

"Oh! Gah—uhn, _Maker's balls!_ " Alistair cursed loudly, his fists clenching in the bedclothes as Zevran filled him. "What _is_ that?"

Zevran gave a satisfied chuckle. "That, my friend, is how we know all this nonsense about the oddity of men lying with other men is just that: nonsense. The Maker whose balls you invoke so freely, He has given us a great gift, yes?"

Zevran withdrew and pushed back in with a cautious thrust, and Alistair's whole body moved, his knees curling under him, his arms drawing in. "Sweet fucking Andraste's cunt!" he gasped and spat, panting. Elissa had to clamp her hand over her mouth to keep from laughing at Alistair's sudden and unexpected penchant for profanity.

"Is it too much?" Zevran asked.

"Ung! No... don't... stop...!"

What followed was much like the wrestling match their first kiss had been. Overwhelmed, Alistair's body tried to crawl away from Zevran, even as Alistair breathed great, ragged, heaving sobs of pleasure and begged for more. Zevran was forced to follow him, as Alistair inched away and sank lower upon the bed in an unconscious effort to escape the tide of sensation, until he was lying flat, at which point Zevran withdrew and grabbed his hips, hauling him back up to his knees. Then the dance began again, until they were both panting and drenched with sweat.

Elissa watched it, breathless and quivering. She watched as Zevran pulled out again, rolling Alistair onto his back and pushing his knees to his chest before plunging into him once more. Alistair groaned loudly, his head falling back, his neck stretched and extended, open to Zevran's sucking, biting mouth.

Then Zevran pulled back, urging Alistair's legs up over his shoulders. Though Alistair's bulk was immense compared to the elf, still Zevran managed to find the right angle and began to thrust, hard and fast, ramming again and again into Alistair, whose voice rose and fell in a nearly non-stop litany of curses and prayers. Rougher and more violent their thrusts became, and Elissa was startled when Alistair seized and cried out, a brief, thin stream of milky fluid surging from his cock. And then it happened again, some moments later.

Alistair looked dazed and agonized, and yet he continued to beg for more, until finally Zevran's considerable control began to fray. He oiled his hand and began to stroke Alistair's cock, working him in time to the brutally fast snapping of his hips, smacking sharply against Alistair's backside. Zevran's breath came fast and harsh through his teeth as he urged Alistair on, urged him to yield one final climax. With a cry that was nearly a roar, Alistair did so, fluid spreading over his belly. Zevran followed him over the precipice, plunging deep into Alistair's ass and freezing there, grimacing before he finally subsided with a powerful shudder.

The two of them practically _melted_ into the bed together. Elissa suspected that if she wanted any more pleasure tonight, she would need to find it herself, for though satisfied and replete, they both looked unutterably weary.

She rose and fetched a cool, wet cloth and returned to Alistair, whose large body was draped bonelessly across the massive bed. She was pleased to see him so unconcerned with Zevran's nude presence beside him. They weren't snuggling, but they were certainly cozy. It bode well for future adventures. She also noted that Zevran seemed in no hurry to leave, which left open a host of delightfully decadent pleasures to indulge in the morning.

With tender hands, she began to clean him; wiping fluids and perspiration from his face and working her way down. Alistair murmured something relaxed and approving as she bathed him, drifting blissfully. Gently she wiped his groin, but when she progressed, intending to wipe away the seed Zevran had left behind where it glistened between the firm globes of Alistair's backside, she found her wrist caught in an unbreakable grip.

"Oh, no," Zevran said, chuckling wickedly as her eyes flew to him in surprise. "That is not how you will be cleaning him tonight. It wouldn't be fair, after all, to insist that he do what you are unwilling to do yourself, yes?"

Of course. Leave it to Zevran to find ways to push even her boundaries. Hesitating only a moment, she conceded, dipping her head to comply. Alistair's body shook with barely-restrained laughter at the way the tables had been turned upon her.

"And tomorrow, sweet slut," Zevran promised her, his voice drowsy, "it shall be your ass we plunder."


End file.
